Page 89 of Dukes Do It Better
Devon swallowed roughly. “Thank you for leaving me out of it.”
Mal faced him and seemed to grow several inches before her eyes. “Montague threatened my soon-to-be wife and child, but so did you. Make no mistake, Lord Roxbury, I’m not doing you a favor. I’ll leave you out of this, but on one condition. You will retire to the Continent. Live your life. Be a better man. Today cleans the slate, and we will part ways, never to see one another again.”
Emma searched Devon’s expression for a hint about how he felt about that ultimatum. It was fruitless, but she couldn’t help looking for the man she’d once believed herself in love with. He might be in there somewhere beneath the ravages of alcohol. Once upon a time, she’d thought she would save him, reform him into a respectable husband. But heavy-lifting of that magnitude was entirely Devon’s responsibility, and she wanted nothing to do with it anymore.
After a long moment, he agreed with a nod. “That is probably more than I deserve, considering the trouble I’ve brought on your heads.”
“Do you have your own room?” Mal asked.
“Yes, mine is next door.”
“Then I suggest you return to it and stay there until you hear the magistrate finish his business.” Mal wrapped an arm around Emma’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head, dismissing Devon. If she wasn’t mistaken, Mal took an extra moment to breathe her in. She smiled as his face lingered in her hair.
At the door, Devon turned back. “Your Grace?”
They both turned to face him.
“He’s yours. Please…be the father I refused to be,” Devon said.
Mal dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “I already am. He is, and will be, loved. I promise.”
Emma burrowed her nose in his chest as a heavy sigh escaped. Lordy goodness, she loved this man. “Goodbye, Devon.” The words felt as final as they sounded.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dear Mal,
You were worth the wait. Now hurry home and marry me.
All my love,
E
—A note found in Malachi’s uniform pocket
The hilt of his sword gleamed against the oak judgment table.
Acquitted honorably. The words echoed in his head.
Without a key witness—since the Admiralty’s witness had apparently been killed in an accident—the case unraveled. Even under questioning, no one on board the Athena could or would corroborate the witness’s story. From the lieutenants and warrant officers, all the way down to the powder monkey, Malachi’s crew denied knowledge.
“Take up your sword and return to His Majesty’s service. Your orders will be delivered to you directly,” Admiral Sorkin said, concluding his speech.
Malachi wrapped his hand around the familiar hilt and woven grip. The gold braid on the cuff of his uniform shone in the sunlight pouring through the window behind him. He spoke the words he’d gone over with the Admiral this morning. “I formally request to retain my commission in abeyance, Admiral. I continue to serve my king, but now in the form of a dukedom.”
Sorkin jerked his head in a terse nod. “So it will be. Expect orders to arrive at your London residence within the next seventy-two hours. We hope to see you again in Town soon.” The admiral bowed his head slightly. “Your Grace.”
This time, when Malachi walked down the hall of the Admiralty, with his sword securely in its scabbard, the stares and murmurs were quieter. People would still talk, because people were people. But the presence of his sword said everything about his court-martial. Captain Harlow, the Duke of Trenton, remained in the king’s service.
Ignoring the stares, he pushed through the door and out into the sunshine.
More than anything, he wanted to go home. To Olread Cove and his boisterous family and gorgeous fiancée. They’d reluctantly agreed that such a short stay in London wasn’t worth uprooting everyone. Especially when Emma had a wedding cake to finalize. The rest of the details she’d not cared too much about, and delegated to Phee and Lottie when they arrived at the cottage a few days after their conflict with Montague. But the food? Emma was determined to have the perfect cake to begin their life together.
Instead of barreling straight out of London, Malachi gave a hack driver directions to the house he’d rented when he’d returned from sea a lifetime ago.
Simon had invited him to dinner and asked Malachi to wish him happy. Miss Adelaide Martin would be Lady Marshall in two months’ time. Miss Martin’s family remained a mystery to him beyond a vague idea of her father being in politics. From what he’d heard when Simon called yesterday, his friend enjoyed her family and was eager to marry. Of course, even if Miss Martin came from a family of trolls, Malachi would still show up to dinner and toast to his friend’s happiness.
In a few days, he would leave London and head east with enough time to reach Olread Cove before the wedding. Miss Martin and her mother would follow behind, accompanied by Simon.
